Games that Suffice
by allyjay.laurie
Summary: "And when the bombs exploded into different colors that she'd never known, she remembered."
1. Only 12: Prim

**I. **

She was only 12 when she forgot her age.

* * *

Yes, she was only 12. Only 12 with blonde pigtails and the height half her doorframe. She was only 12 when she got her first meal for the family. She was only 12 when she took care of her mother. She was of that age when she tended a patient herself, only 12 when she stripped off the tablecloth on which they had meager dinners, to place a bloody body.

She became the big sister, the mother and the father.

She'd come to recognize the sight of death, hunger, loneliness and struggle.

She'd learn to not complain.

She was of that age when she lost her sister. She said goodbye and watched her sister die on TV.

Because even when she hugged her sister once she returned from the games, Prim knew Katniss wasn't really there.

But Prim didn't mind because she was older than that. She was older than 12, and had to understand. She was older than 12 and had to deal with running a hospital, helping others and saving lives.

And when the bombs exploded into different colors that she'd never known, she remembered.

Prim remembered she was only 12.

_**AU: I'm pretty sure Prim was around 13 when she died, but it's possible she was 12 I guess. For the sake for the poem I'll just put into the mindset that she was 12. Please, please review/favorite! Guest review are welcomed as well! **_

_**Thank you.**_


	2. Sane: Annie

**II.**

They don't know that she's sane.

They don't know her, they don't get her. She stares off and sees things beautiful. She claps her hands over her ears and hears things magnificent.

We stare off and we see children getting killed by another child. We clasp our hands over our ears and we hear people cheering for blood shed.

Who's the crazy ones?

She counts to her self; counting rose petals.  
We count to ourselves; counting the number dead.

We call her insane,  
She calls us by our names.

In this world, we're all crazy and insane  
But Annie, she's the only sane one, she's the only normal one.

That's why when she whispers to herself and they claim her to be unstable,

I know she sings.

_**AU: Review/Fav/Follow!**_


	3. The Games: Katniss

**III.**

She tries.

She wins.

* * *

She wishes she lost

Because it's never worth it, not any of it.

* * *

Little does she know, that by winning, she has truly lost.

**_Thank you for the reviews! TooLazyToLogin wow you just made my night/morning! You're truly amazing, thank you._**

**_ .95, thank you for that lovely review. I appreciated it so much, you don't even know._**

**_I adore you all. _**


	4. Identity: Finnick

**IV.**

He's all sultry and seduction

A sauntering mess really, a walking sex god

Hair the color of perfect Bronze and eyes of deep green

Has the Capitol in his hands

Has slept with half of Panem with the price of secrets

He is favored.

* * *

He's all jokes and stories

A clumsy mess really, a walking catastrophe

Hair the color of brown seashells and eyes of the sea

Has his hand entangled with Annie's

Has put smiles on all's faces at the price of happiness

He is loved.

(Who is Finnick Odair?)

_**AU: Review/Fav/Follow! I adore you all!**_

_***OK I admit I didn't like this one, at all actually. I love Finnick and this didn't do justice I feel like, after reading it all over. Ah, all is well, I'm planning to make this a long story so you'll see more *better* Finnick entries, I promise!**_


	5. Coal Dust: Ms Everdeen

**V.**

She turns color blind at 30.

* * *

When he died, all the colors evaporated. The trees went from green to gray, the flowers from pink to white. Her vision was grainy and scattered.

She swears it's coal dust.

She always itches her eyes, trying to rub off the terrible dust that's effecting her vision. So she retires to her room all day scratching her eyes viciously, and her eyes water and water.

Even when her daughters' collar bone starts to show, even when the table is empty day by day. She sits in her room and rubs and rubs, trying to remove the dust so she can feed her children and resume her life.

But she can't.

So she stays there, with her black and white vision. She stays there in her room without her starving children, and occasionally rubs her eyes, while her eyes water constantly.

Then one day she realizes:

She can see her daughters blonde braid just fine.

She can see her daughters hollow gray eyes perfectly.

The trees are green and the flowers are pink.

She finally comes out her room and sees her eldest bringing food to the table, her daughters surviving without her.

She realizes she gained her vision far too late.

Of all this time she was in her room, crying, isolated. She left her children, and now her children merely need her.

Ms. Everdeen doesn't blame it on coal dust anymore. She's given up on crying and allowing it consume her, and tries to be a mother again.

Ms. Everdeen learns to go outside everyday where the sun is as yellow as her hair, and the skies as open as her husband's eyes.

_**AU: Fav/Follow/REVIEW! Please leave something, criticism is welcomed as well! Let me know what you think of the story so far!**_


	6. Chains: Avox

_**Fav/Follow/Review!**_

**VI.**

She thought of her job similar to slavery,  
At the expense of her tongue and her being a servant, chained to the Capital.

She bought tea to the wives of the capitol officials  
They were dressed in their finery;  
Jewels, pearls, rubies, stones that glitter.

The necklaces they wear cost more than her tongue. She doesn't let this bother her as she clinks their tea to their saucers.

They laugh with their palms pressed to their chests

How stupid these women are, complaining about the weather and fashion as if it's the greatest terror to ever occur.

She thinks of how these ladies, who laugh with their hands pressed to their chests, would react if their bangling jeweled bracelets turned to chains and their multi-colored tongues dropped to the floor.

While pre-occupied with her thoughts, she laughs. Her laugh is throaty and guttural, and all the women in the room widen their eyes and gawk at her in terror.

The vice president's wife screams.

She is briskly dragged out by hostile peacekeepers by her hair

Her red hair liters the floor.

* * *

Avoxes aren't allowed to laugh.


	7. Dresses: Cinna

**VII.**

He cuts.

* * *

He Sews and measures

Does fittings, designs

And plannings.

He lives.

He breathes and talks.

Cries, laughs

And feels.

But more importantly, he cuts.

He doesn't just cut out fabric, no.

He cuts out his feelings, his talks, his laughs, his cries, his life

And he sews it into pretty little dresses.

He isn't really gone, he really isn't.

Because with every dress he's ever made, with every cloth he's every touched, carries his life.

He's everlasting, so long his clothing is worn until split at the seams, were his talks and laughs bound the fabric.

Within the seams is his legacy.

So when he started to cut the dress he knew would end his life,

Cinna continued to cut.

_**AU: Please- Fav/Follow/REVIEW! I adore you all! Thank you. **_


	8. Burned Bread: Peeta

**VIII.**

He always ate white bread, soft and full  
Until he meet her of course, then he favored his bread burned.

* * *

He remembers, how could he ever forget?

She was merely alive, skinny and frail

For some reason his heart warmed

For what, he doesn't know.  
She's too skinny to be pretty, too frightened to be attractive.

He found her intoxicating, lovely. This half dead girl.

Beautiful.

He burned bread, and give it to her quickly.  
He watched as she devoured it, too fast to be decent.

She licked the burned flakes on her fingertips.

* * *

That night, with a burning cheek and a heart burning greater,  
He threw a piece of white bread into the fire and retrieved it.

Blackened, too hard and too tough.

He bit into it and he knew her.

He knew her and he smelled her  
He smelled her and he tasted her

She was one of those who had to eat their bread burned.

He had eaten his bread white, soft and full all his life

He threw another piece of bread into the fire and finished off the one he'd just been eating

Peeta licked the burned flakes on his fingertips.

**_AU: Fav/Follow/REVIEW! _**


	9. Knowing: Gale

**IX.**

He knew who she was, before them of course.

* * *

"The Girl on Fire!" They scream, they proclaim, they chant. As if it were revelations, something they just discovered.

But he knew before them. He knows they're wrong. He knows what she is, and she certainly isn't the girl on fire.

She's made of coal.

She glows and glows. She glows when she smiles, when she snarls, when she scorns. She glows like coal, magnificent. But never does she catch fire.

Because fires burn out. Fires extinguish, fires deflate. Fires are temporary, it's majesty never lasting, much like the Capitol.

It isn't a wonder that the Capitol takes fancy in things on fire. Both are interim, pretty while it lasts, but nevertheless falter.

She's much like the ashes and ambers, the debris that glows far after the fire has extinguished.

Resembling persistence and resilience, the glowing within the black.

Gale knows that. He resides to the knowledge, claiming a tiny part of her that the Capitol can never have.

_**AU: If you're reading this, then I'd hate to be annoying but I beg for you to leave something. I don't mean to be a hassle but I just want to know I'm writing for at least some type of audience, and to decide to continue with this! Thanks for those supporting.**_


	10. Red: Effie

**XI.**

There's a reason why she doesn't wear red.

* * *

She used to wear red, actually. She loved it, adored it even. She loved red of every shade, of every sort.

Red was a color that intrigued her- as red wine, red silk, red apples.

Red wigs, red nails, red lipstick.

Her wardrobe consisted of all things red, shade by shade, pigment by pigment.

Why, even as an escort, she requested a hotel painted red.

That's why when she sat by the other escorts at the luxurious hotel watching the 67th annual Hunger Games, twirling a glass of red wine, was she covered in red attire from head to toe.

That's why when she watched as a 12 year old was decapitated on TV, she clutched her red purse, till her knuckles turned white.

She watched as the blood seeped into the ground, the deepest kind of red she's ever seen, even deeper red than the dress she wore.

She ran out, her red glittering heels clicking furiously.

When she returned, she was sure to wear an orange dress.

Effie knew of better colors.

_**AU: I hope you guys like these prompts I've uploaded so far. Once again, I ask for reviews, any very much appreciated. **_


	11. Sober: Haymitch

**XII.**

He drinks to be sober.

* * *

Wine, Whiskey, Rum. Anything that gets your head pounding and the world look like a kaleidoscope of tables and frames.

Anything that allowed him to forget his games, his name, himself.

All he ever saw behind his eyes were images of his games. He was intoxicated with his miseries and memories he didn't want to remember. Drunk on every single gruesome detail, every second of the day.

He could scarcely function.

That's why 5 years later, when he took a sip of white wine, he forced down another even though his throat was on fire and his eyes watered. He took another sip, then a gulp, and before long found the crystal bottle empty and hollow.

He thrashed and fell, tossed the tables, vomited all over himself, tipped a mirror over, and laughed without cause.

He was the most sober he's ever been in 10 years.

Because even as he thrashed about and was soaked in his own bile, he forgot. He forgot the candy pink birds, he forgot the flying axe, he forgot Maysilee Donner's screams.

Instead of feeling the grass underneath his feet from 5 years ago, he felt glass crudely cutting his skin.

And that was just damn fine.

He destroys half his house, but it's fine because it's the most sober he's ever been, the most sane he's ever been.

When he closes his eyes he sees colors whirling instead of that District 1 tribute missing an eye. Although his throat is a coursing fire and his head is alight with fireworks, but it's fine because for once he's at last sober. Sober from all the miseries and Cladius Templesmith's voice.

He falls and lands by the fallen mirror. He stares into the mirror, confused as to who is staring back, bewildered at his own reflection, not sure who this person, who looks very much like him, is.

Haymitch is glad.

_**AU: Thanks so much to Ellenka, guys she just awesome and awesome, it's crazy. Well, I have a bit of reviews, but a huge number of views so I know people read, so I guess that's good. All is well, I will continue. Well a little fact about me is that I'm an American 14 year old girl, very much enticed into the Hunger Games fandom! So sorry if there's any grammar mistakes, editing and revising are non existent to me, honestly.**_

_**I adore you all!**_


	12. Wooden Dolls: Johanna

_**XII.**_

Long before she swung an ax into the tribute 2's chest, Johanna played with dolls.

Small, plain dolls, carved from wood with a glossy finish. She had between 20 to 200 of them laying about everywhere.

She carved them herself- she took an ax and carved the same doll over and over and let her mind give them faces and characters.

The dolls varied from district to district from all walks of life. Only, with Johanna's dolls, they all looked the same.

The dolls that resembled district 12 were just as plump as the ones that resembled district 2.

The dolls that resembled the capitol were fashioned the same as all the other dolls- plain wood brown, glossed over.

One day, when a few socialites from the capitol came to film footage of Johanna's home district, and one of the ladies from the capitol saw Johanna's wooden dolls.

The lady, just as any other citizen of the capitol, was intrigued like the young girl were a zoo attraction. Johanna pointed out what each doll was like and where they were from.

When she got to the capitol doll the lady's face got quite sour. She questioned why the doll from the capitol looked like that- plain and naked just like the other district dolls.

From that day on, Johanna made sure the dolls she made that were to be capitol dolls were fashioned with birch wood, far more delicate and a far cry from a plain wooden doll.

But Johanna never changed the fashion of all the district dolls, she made sure every one of them were equal.

So when Johanna's ax got embedded into the tributes chest, she couldn't help but think about how she always made all tribute dolls equal, how they both were the same wooden dolls she made.

* * *

Johanna met Katniss

Johanna never played with fire before.

But what Johanna does know is that-

Birch wood burns faster.

**_I'm back! (If I even have still have viewers, honestly) I decided to post something. I'm not sure where this story is going to go. Right now I'm going to wait a little and see if I get a response and reviews from readers to continue. If not then... I guess that's all. Reviews are everything to a writer, it's such a huge support. Thanks a lot guys xoxo_**


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